


More Than A Name

by riverwrenwrites



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5000 words of everyone being nice to Diego, Coming Out, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Male Character, it's pure mindless validation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverwrenwrites/pseuds/riverwrenwrites
Summary: The kids are finally getting real names, but Number Two knows if he doesn't speak up soon, he'll end up with the wrong one.orDiego is trans and finds himself coming out to Klaus and Grace.





	More Than A Name

**Author's Note:**

> *disclaimer* I'm not a trans man, and while I have done my best to communicate with friends to make sure what I'm writing is accurate and not offensive/insensitive in any way I'm still totally open to criticism, and if any part of this makes anybody uncomfortable for any reason please don't hesitate to leave a comment or shoot me a DM on my tumblr (@lesbuchanan) and I'll be sure to change it.

It was the elephant in the room that nobody ever wanted to address. An uncomfortable weight sitting heavy on everybody’s shoulders, but nobody ever wanted to be the one to mention it. So when Grace came into the room that Saturday afternoon, interrupting the game they were all playing to say that their father had asked her to give them all “real names”, it caught them all by surprise. They all knew it was strange. The older they got and the more they were exposed to a world outside of the Academy, the more they realised that being referred to by numbers was at best pretty unusual, and at worst… well none of them wanted to think about that. But until Grace’s announcement, none of them had ever really talked about it. Now though? Now it was a constant topic of conversation, and it was the absolute bane of Number Two’s life.

Any time someone mentioned it, any time he even _thought_ about it, it felt like a knife was being twisted in his gut. Five had already opted out, immediately declaring that he didn’t want a new name, and a big part of him wanted to do the same. The problem was, he _did_ want a name. He hated the numbers. He hated his number especially. It’s hard not to feel second best when everyone _literally_ addresses you as Number Two. And maybe it wouldn’t be that bad getting a name. Maybe, by pure chance, mom would give him a neutral name, or at least something he could shorten into a nickname he liked. That was what he told himself anyway, whenever he found himself getting too worked up about the whole thing, but deep down he knew how unlikely that was. They were getting names, he was almost certainly going to get a girl’s name.

It wasn’t mom’s fault, obviously. She didn’t know. Nobody did. He wasn’t even sure he really knew for certain. All he knew was that the ugly pinafores he had to wear felt like they were lead weighted, and that any time Three referred to the two of them as sisters he had to hold himself back from snapping at her, and that the thought of having a girl’s name made him want to bolt through the front door and never come back. Two struggled with his words at the best of times, but with _this_? He had no idea how to begin to try and explain it to anyone in a way that made sense. And even if he could, he still didn’t know for certain that they’d understand. So he’d stayed quiet, for months. Years, actually. And it had been fine, most of the time. Mom told the others he was a tomboy. He didn’t really like the connotations of that, but she never meant it in a bad way, so he never argued. They all accepted that he didn’t like girly nicknames without much question, and Six sometimes let him wear a pair of his shorts around the house. At least until dad noticed and yelled at him to put his own uniform back on. And he kept telling himself that he could keep this up for a few more years. Just until he was old enough to slip out of the house one night and start a new life on his own, without ever having to explain himself to anybody. But now they were getting names, and suddenly he’d run out of time. Suddenly he was faced with the option of either telling everyone, or getting stuck pretending he wasn’t a boy. And since the thought of the second option made him want to scratch his skin off, he decided he’d have to tell somebody.

Making that decision was the easy part. Following through was harder. He found himself sitting up in his room most nights, talking to himself in the mirror. Playing out potential conversations with each of his siblings and cringing every time the words got stuck in his throat. One night, about a week and a half after the subject of names first came up, he stayed up later than usual. It must have been well past midnight, and he was still sat on a pile of pillows in the corner of his room, talking lowly to himself about everything that was going on in his head. He’d long since forgotten who he’d been imagining this conversation with, his mind more focused on the piece of hair he was cutting away with his knife. It had started to grow past his chin again, and he was determined to keep it as short as he was allowed. His fingers itched to just cut the whole lot off, but Pogo had already threatened more than once to confiscate his knives, and he didn’t want to push too far. So instead he stuck to cutting away tiny pieces of the choppy bob mom had given him. It felt lighter, and the ends didn’t brush his shoulders anymore, but at a glance it still looked the same. Or at least it did, until a loud crash from the room next to him made him flinch and slice through the lock he was holding.

“Shit,” He muttered, running his fingers over it. The front piece of hair now hung almost half the length of the rest, glaringly obvious and impossible to hide.

Anger bubbled up in him and without thinking, he stormed out of his room and marched down the hall, pounding his fist on the next door along.

“Leave me alone!”

Four’s voice was almost a scream, and the anger in Two’s gut quickly dissolved into worry. His fingers tightened around the handle of the knife he was still holding and he knocked again, softer this time.

“Four? You good?”

On the other side of the wall, he heard Four cursing under his breath, and frantic scrambling before the door clicked open a crack and a pair of wide green eyes peered out at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Four breathed when he saw him, and his whole demeanour changed in an instant, opening the door wider and grinning at him with a crooked smile. “What’s up?”

“Are… you okay?” Two glanced around his brother’s shoulder at the room behind him, which looked like a bomb had just hit it.

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m fine. Just uh…” He trailed off and turned to look at his bedroom. “Actually, since you’re awake, could you help me with something?”

“Sure.”

Two followed him in, shutting the door behind him. Inside, the room looked even worse. Everything from his shelves and desk looked had been shoved to the ground, the floor lamp had toppled over, and the collection of posters that used to be carefully taped to the wall were shredded to pieces.

“Careful,” Four mumbled, putting his hand out to stop him. “There’s glass on the floor.”

He looked down at the shards scattered across the floorboards, and the broken mirror frame next to them. Suddenly the smashing noise made sense.

“It’s supposed to be seven years bad luck, right? But I figure if we all share it out, that’s only one year each.”

Two nodded, not really paying attention as he tiptoed around the broken glass.

“Anyway! I can fix most of this, I just need help with the curtains,” Four said, pointing to the crumpled material that he’d apparently ripped down. “I can’t reach the rail to put them back up.”

Frowning, Two shook his head. “I’m shorter than you. You need One.”

Four laughed at that. “Yeah, sure, lemme just go tell _daddy’s favourite_ that I wrecked my room and see how that turns out. Are you crazy? No, just let me get on your shoulders.”

He knew from several late nights in the kitchen trying to sneak snacks from the top shelves that he could carry Four on his shoulders pretty easily, so he shrugged and clambered onto the bed. “Get on then.”

“Yes! Thanks, man,” Four grinned and he smiled back at him, trying to stay as still as possible while his brother climbed up his back with the curtains clutched in his hands and attempted to fix them back to the rail above his window.

It took them a while. Four lost his balance a few times and fell back onto his bed, but finally the curtains were up. The two of them cleared up the rest of the room, sweeping up the glass on the floor and rearranging everything on the shelves. Two was just thankful for the distraction from everything else going on in his head. In fact, he was almost disappointed when everything was back in its place.

“This is nice,” Four said when they were finished, sitting cross legged on the bed and patting the spot next to him for Two to sit. “Feels like we haven’t hung out in ages.”

They didn’t exactly get many opportunities to spend time together as it was. None of them did. But ever since mom had dropped the name bombshell on them, Two had been avoiding everyone even more than usual. Now that he thought about it, he realised he hadn’t actually spoken to any of his siblings in almost a week. He sat silently on the bed and looked down at his hands, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, Four continued the conversation for him.

“Hey, are you hungry?” He asked, hopping back onto the floor and dragging an open suitcase stuffed to the brim with snacks out from underneath his bed.

Two leant over the edge of the bed, his eyes going wide when he saw how much there was. “Where did you _get_ all that?”

“Stole it,” Four shrugged nonchalantly. “Every time you guys stick me on lookout duty I go around all the corner stores and grab as much as I can.”

“Dad’ll b-be pissed when he finds out.”

“Dude, look around you. Every room in this house is bugged, he almost _certainly_ watches us on missions. Nothing’s a secret in here. So, the way I see it, he can’t be _that_ mad about it. Otherwise he’d have punished me already. Would you like a juice box?”

He nodded and Four handed him an apple juice and a bag of chips, rifling through the assortment of snacks while Two pondered what he’d said. If dad was watching everything they did, he would have seen all the imaginary conversations he’d had with himself in the mirror each night. He’d never considered it before. That dad knew everything that was going on in his head. And if he hadn’t said anything to try and snap him out of it, that must mean he just didn’t care. Next to him, Four hauled himself up onto the bed, pulling him back out of his thoughts.

“What happened to your pyjamas?” He asked through a mouthful of sour candy.

Two looked down at the shirt he was wearing and frowned. Pyjamas had always been his favourite thing to wear. They were the only clothes he had that was exactly the same as his brothers’. The only problem was, everything they were given was always perfectly tailored to fit snugly, a little _too_ snugly in his case. One had looked more than a little confused when he’d shown up in his doorway one day and asked to borrow a couple of his pyjama shirts, but he’d agreed, even when Two refused to give any kind of explanation. He wasn’t about to stand and explain the ins and outs of puberty to his brother, or why it was an issue for him. The shirt swamped him, and he had to roll the sleeves up to stop them covering his hands, but at least he couldn’t see the shape of his chest anymore.

“Uh…” He struggled to think of a plausible explanation, but Four cut in again before he needed to.

“What happened to your _hair_ ?”

He ran the jagged lock of hair through his fingers again. “ _You_ happened,” He told him. “I- I was cutting it and you made a noise and distracted me. Does it look bad?”

“ _No_ ,” Four said slowly, his voice going up a pitch. “It uh… Maybe we can turn it into bangs?”

“I don’t want bangs.”

“How about I cut a piece of my hair off too,” He suggested. “Or we could cut the other side so it matches at least.”

“It’ll look stupid,” Two mumbled.

“Yeah, but your face looks stupid anyway, so who’s gonna notice?”

Two laughed and punched him in the arm, just hard enough for him to know about it. “Fine,” He agreed. “But I still want you to cut some of your hair off.”

“Okay, deal.”

Without missing a beat, Four reached under his pillow and pulled out a kitchen knife, smirking when Two’s eyes went wide.

“What? You think you’re the only person with knives in their room? You’re not special, Two.”

“Why do you have that?”

“Self-defence,” He said matter-of-factly. “Now hold still.”

Two sat frozen in place while his brother carefully cut away the hair on the other side of his face, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration. He didn’t dare speak in case Four lost his focus, which happened a lot, so he stayed quiet and looked down at his lap until he was finished.

“There!” He said after a few minutes, sitting back to admire his work. “It looks fine!”

Before Two could respond, he was grabbing a lock of his own hair and chopping it off, grinning proudly at him. “And now we’re even.”

“Thanks,” He sniggered as he ran his fingers through the shorter sections of hair.

“You think we can make voodoo dolls out of this?” Four mumbled thoughtfully, collecting the cuttings up in his palm. “I’m gonna try.”

“Voodoo isn’t real.”

“Neither were ghosts until I came alone,” Four pointed out.

He didn’t have a counter argument, so he sat back on the bed and watched as Four sprung to his feet again, rifling through his top drawer and pulling out a pair of cuddly toys.

“Do you want to be a fox?” He asked, holding the orange plushie up. “Or do you feel like more of a rabbit kinda gal?”

Two must have made a face at that, because his brother immediately frowned and lowered both his hands. “I have other animals too? Or we can do something else.”

“No I- it’s fine,” He insisted. “I like the fox.”

“Okay!”

He tossed the rabbit back into the drawer and sat back next to him, attempting to stick Two’s hair to the fox’s head with a piece of tape.

“What were you cutting your hair for anyway?” He asked after a few minutes. “You know you can just get mom to do it.”

“She doesn’t do it short enough,” Two muttered, twisting the straw in his juice box absently. “If I tell her I want it short she just cuts it like this, and then it grows too fast and I- I- I have to cut it myself to stop it getting longer. It’s stupid.”

“So just tell her you want it shorter.”

“I _tried_. I want it like _yours_ but she just says dad wouldn’t like it and leaves it like this.”

He could feel himself getting frustrated and flexed his fingers while Four hummed.

“Kinda like how he makes mom straighten my hair,” He said thoughtfully. And it wasn’t _really_ the same, but Two nodded anyway, watching him twist one of the curls of his hair around his finger.

“It looks good straight,” He said and Four chuckled.

“It’s the only straight thing about me.”

Two blinked at him. “What?”

“What?” Four mumbled, before a dawning realisation of what he’d said spread across his face. “Oh, uh, okay. So _that_ happened I guess.” He said, picking at one of the buttons on his pyjama shirt.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine,” He shrugged. “I just thought it’d be a little more dramatic than that. Okay, can you feel this,” He asked, holding up the toy fox he’d been working on and poking its stomach.

Two shook his head and he huffed in disappointment. “Well, that was a waste of time. Or maybe I didn’t do it right,” He mumbled and tossed the toy across the room, slumping onto his back and dropping his feet into Two’s lap. “Ugh. Coming out is really anti-climactic in real life. I didn’t even cry. This is so stupid. I’m never doing that again, it’s pointless.”

He knew Four always started rambling when he was nervous, so he leant back against the wall and looked over at him.

“Do you want me to do a really dramatic monologue about how you’re still my brother and my best friend and I’ll always love you no matter what? And then you can start crying and then I can start crying and it’ll be really gross.”

Four giggled and shook his head. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself.” He paused for a moment before adding, “You’re my best friend too.”

He smiled up at him and visibly relaxed against the pillows, and Two felt a wave of warmth wash over him.

“Does anyone else know?” He asked and Four nodded.

“I talked to Six about it a few weeks ago.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise. Six was the best listener out of all of them, and the best at keeping secrets. He probably knew more than the rest of them put together.

“I think Seven knows too,” He said, more quietly, and that did take Two by surprise. “I didn’t _say_ anything, but I don’t know. We were talking about something else the other day and she just… I feel like she knows.”

Two nodded thoughtfully and Four continued talking, changing the topic to that morning’s breakfast when Three had knocked an entire jug of orange juice into Five’s lap. They talked for hours, about their siblings, and their training, and the last mission, and dad. Four told him about a recurring dream he’d been having about people in masks abducting him in the middle of the night, then started doing impressions of Pogo that made Two laugh so hard he had to hold a pillow over his face so he didn’t wake the others up. He ended up laying on the bed next to his brother, squashed up shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the ceiling as their conversations became more and more nonsensical.

“And that,” Two said, licking Cheeto dust from his fingertips. “Is why I could beat the Hulk, easily, in a fight.”

“What about She-Hulk?”

“Why would I fight her? That’s my girlfriend.”

Four started sniggering, but it quickly dissolved into a yawn. “Hmm, I hope we don’t get sent on a mission tomorrow, because I _will_ die.”

“For sure you will. The bad guys will be shooting at you and you’ll be like,” He dropped his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes and making a loud snoring noise.

“Yeah,” Four giggled. “You’ll come save me though, right?”

“Oh, I’ll already be dead.”

“Sweet. We can haunt the others together.”

Two hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “I think, if I was a ghost, I’d just follow One around all day and make fart noises in his ear.”

“He wouldn’t be able to hear you,” Four reminded him, but he just shrugged.

“I know. But it’d be really funny.”

They both laughed and Four looked up at the ceiling, sighing deeply. “I hope mom names him something really boring. Like… Todd, or something.”

“Or Jim.”

“Grant.”

“ _Richard_.”

Four snorted at that. “I hope I get something cool. I don’t _ever_ want to meet someone with the same name as me. But not like… I don’t want a made up name or anything stupid, just something uncommon. You know?” He paused, turning to look at him. “Is it weird that I’m kinda nervous about it?”

The nauseous feeling was already setting in just thinking about it, and Two shook his head. “I’m nervous too.”

“Hmm. Tomorrow’s gonna be crazy.”

Two blinked at him. “W-What do you mean tomorrow?”

“Nobody told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Oh, well,” Four rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “I heard from Six, who heard from Seven, who heard from Five, who heard from One, who heard from Three, that mom’s gonna give us our new names tomorrow, after breakfast.”

Two didn’t say anything and he continued. “I hope there’s a ceremony,” He said, grinning at him. “Do you think we’ll get new birth certificates? Do we even _have_ birth certificates?”

His words were muffled in Two’s ears, blocked out by the sound of his heart hammering frantically. Even with the oversized pyjama shirt he was wearing, his chest felt like it was being crushed. He’d run out of time. He was going to get the wrong name and it was too late to do anything. For a second, he thought about the bag he kept under his bed for quick getaways, and found himself wondering how far he could feasibly get on his own if he ran _right now_. He thought again about just refusing a name like Five did, but then they’d all start asking him _stupid_ questions and making everything a million times worse. None of this was fair.

“Two?”

He felt his brother’s hand on his arm and jerked away from him, shuffling away until his back was pressed up against the wall. Four backed off and clasped his hands together.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I’m f-f-f. I’m f-” He clenched his jaw in frustration. “I’m-for _fucks_ sake. I’m _fine_.”

“You’re crying.”

“No I’m not,” He muttered, balling his hands into fists and rubbing his eyes. “’M just tired. I’m going to bed.”

He sat upright, but that was as far as he got. There was no point going to bed when he still had a hundred different thoughts spinning around in his head. Pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Four stayed uncharacteristically quiet while he tried to calm himself down, and when Two opened his eyes again he was sat up next to him, mirroring his position and watching him with wide, sad eyes, like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked tentatively.

This time Two shook his head, leaning against his shoulder when Four draped his arm around him.

“I don’t know what to do,” He admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I thought I had longer and now there’s no time and I-I-I…”

He paused to try and swallow the sudden lump in his throat, feeling tears welling up in his eyes again. “I’m gonna get the wrong name. And it’s n-n-not fair.”

Four squeezed his shoulder. “How do you know? You might get one you like, and everything will be fine.”

“It’s not about whether I like it or not,” Two mumbled. He didn’t say anything else for a moment, and next to him he could see Four trying really hard to figure out what he meant.

And he wished he would figure it out, so he didn’t have to actually _say it_. Even though deep down he _knew_ Four wouldn’t care. He knew none of them would care, really, but still the thought of actually saying it made him feel sick. Because then it was real. And he _wanted_ it to be real so badly, but what if he was wrong? What if everything in his head was wrong, or he’d misinterpreted it, and what if when people started calling him a boy it felt _just_ as bad? What if this didn’t fix anything and there was just something wrong with him and he was never going to feel right?

He felt Four squeeze his arm again, and he realised there were tears rolling down his cheeks. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he curled up tighter on himself.

“I’m gonna get a girl’s name,” He said quietly, taking a shaky breath. “A-and I-I-I-I… I’m _not_ , and T-Two doesn’t mean anything b-b-but if I get the wrong name then everyone’s gonna call me that instead and I-I’ll have to keep pretending and…”

His words started coming out as sobs and he gave up, turning to hide his face in Four’s shoulder and reaching out blindly to cling on to his shirt.

“This is so stupid and gross,” He muttered between breaths, cringing at the wet spot he was leaving on Four’s pyjamas.

Four was quiet for a moment, wrapping his other arm around him and rubbing circles on his back.

“Do you want me to do a really dramatic monologue about how you’re my brother and my best friend and I’ll love you no matter what?”

Two choked out a laugh and clung tighter to him.

“Thank you,” He said softly. “Tonight’s been super weird, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Four shrugged, sitting back and smiling at him. “Sorry about that time I said all my brothers were lame. You’re not lame.”

Every time he said it, Two felt a little of the tension inside him wash away. It got a little easier to breathe again, and he felt a little more like himself. For a moment everything felt okay again, but then he remembered how the conversation had started and he sighed, sitting upright and curling his knees back up.

“So… what do you think I should do?” He asked, looking down at his feet.

“About the name thing?”

Two nodded and Four shrugged. “Easy. We just tell mom that you need a boy’s name.”

“That’s… not that easy,” Two mumbled. “I already tried telling her. I always get s-sc-scared and then I start stuttering and it’s useless.” He let out a frustrated huff and Four scooted towards him.

“Yeah,” He said. “But this time I can come with you.”

He considered the idea for a moment and nodded slowly. “Okay. But I don’t want you to tell her for me. I can do it.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

Four started scrambling off the bed and Two gawped at him.

“Now?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“But we…” He paused, wrapping his arms around himself nervously. “I don’t wanna wake her up.”

He knew it was a stupid thing to say, but Four’s face turned serious again.

“I don’t think she sleeps, Two,” He said solemnly.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to go now if you don’t want to.”

“No! I do,” Two insisted, forcing himself to his feet and marching over to the door. “Let’s go.”

Four scurried across the room and took his hand, leading him along the hall and down the stairs to the loveseat where their mom would sit every night. He’d never seen her this late at night before. She didn’t look real, sat upright with her hands neatly folded in her lap and staring, unblinking, at the wall of portraits in front of her. Two gripped his brother’s hand a little apprehensively, every sense in him telling him that they shouldn’t disturb her, but Four just strolled up to her undeterred.

“Hi, mom,” He said cheerfully and she blinked a few times, looking up at them and smiling sweetly.

“Four, dear, you know you shouldn’t be out of your room this late.” She paused, holding her hand out towards him. “Did the ghosts wake you up again?”

Four frowned, looking a little embarrassed as he glanced over at Two, and suddenly it made sense why he was so comfortable coming to her this late at night.

“I’m okay,” He mumbled. “Two wants to talk to you.”

She turned to him and smiled, and Two could feel himself freezing up again. Four squeezed his hand and he looked over at him, a little awkwardly.

“Um… I know you’re here for moral support, but it’s a little weird with you just standing there.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. Yeah, I’ll go sit over there,” Four nodded, pulling out a pair of headphones, seemingly from nowhere, and sauntering a few feet back down the hall.

Once he was comfortably out of earshot, Two turned back to mom, who was looking him up and down. Her brow furrowed and she reached out to run her hand along his arm.

“Where are your pyjamas?”

He looked down at the baggy shirt again and shrugged. “My shirt’s too small. I… can I get a bigger one?”

“Of course you can, dear,” She nodded, smiling at him again. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Two shook his head and she shuffled along the couch, patting the empty space next to her for him to sit down. She didn’t say anything, combing her fingers through his hair while he fidgeted anxiously with his hands and tried to decide what to say.

“If I tell you a secret,” He finally said, looking up at her. “Do you have to t-tell everyone else?”

“If I did it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, silly.”

He giggled and she put her arm around him, leaning in and looking at him with warm, but serious eyes. “You can tell me anything.”

“Okay,” He said quietly. “It’s about me… and my new name.”

“Oh, yes, your names,” She sighed to herself. “I hope I get them right. It’s harder than I thought, finding something that fits each of you. You especially. I still haven’t decided on yours yet.”

“Really? Four told me you were gonna tell us what they were tomorrow.”

“Yes, well, I find sometimes I concentrate better if I set myself a deadline,” She smiled at him, running her hand over his hair again. “I have some ideas for you, but none of them feel _quite_ right yet. I’m sure I’ll have something by morning though, so don’t you worry.”

Two chewed on his lip for a moment, tugging on the bottom of his shirt nervously.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I-I… I-I’m a boy,” He told her. “I want a b-boy’s name… Please.”

She looked at him for a moment, her expression hard to read, but then a look of realisation spread across her face and she smiled brightly at him, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“Okay,” She nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. “How about Diego?”

He hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly, and for a few minutes he just stared at her open mouthed as he tried to process what she’d said.

“Diego,” He said quietly, repeating it to himself a few times and smiling to himself. “I like it.”

The reality finally hit him and for a moment he thought he was about to start crying again, but instead he found himself bursting into a fit of giggles. He curled up against her and she wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head while he laughed to himself.

“Two? Are you okay?”

He looked up and saw Four had come back over, visibly relaxing when he saw his face. “Oh,” He said. “I thought you were crying.”

“Diego,” He blurted out, unable to concentrate on anything else. “My name’s Diego.”

Four’s face lit up. “Diego? Oh, I like that! What’s my…” He trailed off, glancing over at mom. “No, I wanna wait until morning.”

She smiled up at him, squeezing Diego in her arms before guiding him to his feet. “It’ll be morning before you know it. But right now you boys need to get back to bed before your father sees you.”

Four nodded and started heading back down the hall, but Diego paused for a moment, leaning down to hug her again.

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, very much,” She told him, patting his back affectionately. “Goodnight, Diego dear.”

He grinned at her and left, jogging to catch up with Four at the foot of the stairs.

“I was thinking,” Four said as they walked back to their rooms. “I could cut your hair for you tomorrow, if you want?”

“No. No way.” Diego cringed at the thought. “I still remember what you did to Three’s doll.”

Four chuckled to himself. “Oh yeah. Okay that’s fair,” He sniggered, pausing as they got to Diego’s bedroom and rocking back on his heels. “Are you gonna tell the others?”

“Yeah,” Diego nodded. “I think I’m just gonna tell them my name and let them figure it out.”

“You might have to spell it out a bit for One. He’s an idiot.”

They both laughed and Diego pushed his door open, waving to Four before he went in. “Thanks for… I don’t know… Everything.”

“You too,” Four smiled. “We should have sleepovers more often. I’ll get some more snacks and then you can come over whenever you want! We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He yawned and started heading down the hall to his own room, pausing when he got to the door and grinning at him. “Goodnight, Diego!”

Four disappeared into his bedroom and Diego smiled to himself, closing his door and falling back onto his bed. Through the wall he could hear Four pacing around as he got ready for bed, and soon he wouldn’t be Four anymore. Soon he’d have a real name, and so would One, and Three, and Six, and Seven. And that used to make his stomach twist and his throat tighten, but now he was excited. He was excited to meet his brothers and sisters all over again, and he couldn’t wait for them to meet Diego.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who came here from my other tua wip and may be wondering if they're connected, the answer is technically yes, they're both set in the same universe and this is how Diego came out to Klaus in wygc as well, but this is also intended as a standalone canon addition too. 
> 
> Also I haven't abandoned that fic I just took a break to get over some writer's block but I'm gonna continue with it very soon!


End file.
